Reading Time: 1 Minutes
She’s a strange girl, isn’t she. I heard him tell
the tourist guide while I was taking photos of
the tourist guide while I was taking photos of
pavements. Ankles, too. Torsos. Fallen receipts
out of pockets. The frayed thread of a shoelace.
out of pockets. The frayed thread of a shoelace.
In the market in Kowloon, I almost wanted a
bouquet of small tomatoes fallen on the ground.
bouquet of small tomatoes fallen on the ground.
Between two old buildings there’s a slice of street
with buses waiting in queue. Have you ever really
with buses waiting in queue. Have you ever really
looked at pavements. Wheels. The grit on the teeth
of wheels. The grey grout of the world. What is
of wheels. The grey grout of the world. What is
abandoned. What have we all lost. Little children.
Cigarettes. Puddles. Upside down faces of edifices.
Cigarettes. Puddles. Upside down faces of edifices.
The men walk ahead as they have done for centuries.
I fall behind to capture what remains of the sunlight.
I fall behind to capture what remains of the sunlight.
Bless whatever I am offered. Praise all that bothers.
Somewhere someone is writing about a roof of flowers.
Somewhere someone is writing about a roof of flowers.
Who am I to deny her?
You might also like
Second Winter Solstice During an Epidemic by Marianne Worthington
September 26, 2024
Beautiful Generative Machine by David Fowler
September 17, 2024
Desire Speaks by Alexandra Burack
September 11, 2024